Childhood's End
by penguinfighter-d-chan
Summary: To what extent does one fake psychic go to prove a point? Follow Shawn as he attempts to solve a mystery that even Lassiter wouldn't take on: The Tennebaum Orphanage Disappearances. X-posted from psych slash
1. The Tennebaum Orphanage

A/N: A side story while I get back to writing _Poker Face_; I'm writing with one of my favorite genres: Horror (a bit early, I know). There is slash here but it's minimum and enough for the story so enjoy! Reviews are welcome! Characters (c) USA

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Shawn swirled around the trunk of the largest oak tree he could find in the forest; his thoughts roaming to the reason he was there in the first place. Like Gus, he didn't like to 'rough it' but he made a very special exception to that rule for this occasion. His cell phone went dead; something other than use had siphoned its charge.

"_Another disappearance in the Tennebaum Orphanage," he and Gus overheard Lassiter sigh while they were doing their usual case-finding rounds. For some reason, Shawn could see his friend suddenly tense up. "The what?" Carlton gave the fake psychic a disbelieving stare when Spencer asked that. "You don't know about the Tennebaum Orphanage?" Before Shawn could answer, Gus quickly cut in with, "I do!" _

"_I don't," Juliet stated loudly enough to be included in the conversation. "Of course you wouldn't know O'Hara; you came from Florida," Lassie surmised, much to the junior detective's confusion. "So what does Jules coming from Miami have to do with a disappearance that happened today? And how can you and Gus be on the same page?" Shawn inquired, interest now piqued._

"Damn! Not now!" Shawn groaned while the afternoon sun glared from above. Not only was he too far from any form of communication, he pretty much was isolated from modern civilization. The closest thing was the now-closed Old Sonora theme park; that was his starting point to begin with. The fake psychic knew raccoons only came out at night but right then, he would've preferred them over the overpowering sensation of seclusion and being watched at the same time. Hell, he would've taken Gus if he hadn't proved to be a big chicken.

"_The Tennebaum Orphanage was founded in 1867 by the Tennebaum family over by what today was Old Sonora. At one time, they housed 140 children of all age groups; that all ended June 13, 1871," Gus began then story so Lassiter would conclude it. "That night, the police supposed, a serial killer found his way into the building…25 people were killed and 45 were never seen again. The suspect was never found but he earned the nickname 'the Wild Dog' by the way the victims had been mutilated."_

_Shawn rolled his eyes, quite unlike Jules who was entranced by the story. "So? It's basically an early Halloween story," he brushed off in a nonchalant manner. "That sound strange coming out of your mouth, Spencer. Didn't your father tell you that one when you were little?" Lassiter questioned him with a humorless smirk. He recognized the shrug as a no so Gus proceeded to tell the fake psychic the hook. "Anyone who goes to the Tennebaum Orphanage never comes back..."_

"I call bullshit and suddenly Lassie believes I'm psychic, go figure," Shawn said as he climbed up a light hill. From the highest point, he spotted the decrepit building just a few minutes' distance. "Good thing there's sunlight around or that place would've been creepy as fuck!" he thought out loud. After coming down, Shawn suddenly slipped on wet mud and rolled the rest of the way down. "What the hey?" he exclaimed until he raised his hand covered in mud and fresh blood. "Ew! What the hell?!"

He then spotted recent yet systematic red splotches all along the clearing's trees, most shaped like an arrow into the abandoned orphanage. "Someone wants me to find them," Shawn surmised as he picked up a sturdy stick as a makeshift weapon. _If he's really a wild dog, maybe he'll even play fetch! _Spencer humored himself. The rusted remains of a playground practically whistled with any passing wind; a swing set that no one would ever use, a slide that had half an inch of leaves and sediment collecting, even a rocking horse whose color had long since chipped away added even more weight into the loneliness Shawn was experiencing. _Lassie wasn't lying about this place_, he thought as he petted the misshapen ride. The hollow building seemed to be standing out of sheer will as one of the wings had collapsed at least 20 years prior; only three windows and two rotting doors sheltered the lifeless orphanage.

Out of nowhere, the fake psychic heard twigs snapping, causing him to spin around in terror only to remind him he was all alone. "I'm hearing things…that's never good," Spencer gulped loudly but fought his desire to run off. "No, I'm solving this even if it kills me, which it will," he stated while biting the means of a girly scream. The pseudo-clairvoyant then turned on his flashlight and entered the building after he spotted strangely fresh crayon drawings pointing him inside.

_The day came and went, and Shawn solved another case but he wasn't letting go of what happened that morning. "I can expect something like this from Gus but you?" he commented as Lassiter served up Chinese takeout. "What are you talking about?" "I'm talking about the Tennebaum disappearance. Normally, you'd be all up in that case until you found the guy but this time you're being mum? It's so…un-Lassie-like! The end of the world is coming!" Spencer flailed his arms. The Head Detective pinched the bridge of his nose as his lover did this._

"_Would you kindly shut up? It's not like I want to keep out of the investigation! That case isn't in our jurisdiction!" Carlton argued fruitlessly. "What? That orphanage is just thirty miles off Old Sonora! Also I checked the station's records; people HAVE come back from that place!" the fake psychic continued his tirade while presenting the evidence. "And did you even read those articles beyond the headlines?" "Why would I? It proves you and Gus are just superstitious!" The look Shawn got from Lassiter was something that shook him to the bone; those blue eyes he loved were as cold as an iceberg._

Most of the drawings on the walls both outside and in dealt with normal kids stuff, rainbows, unicorns and other toys as well as what they thought their future careers would be. But, as he later continued his walkthrough the main hall, the artists all concurred on one thing; a shadow man lurking by the corner of their artwork. "Dear God, this is the Blair Witch Project, Santa Barbara edition!" Shawn shrugged until he heard the faint sound of children's giggles.

Chills went up his spine as he looked up to the main staircase and could've sworn he saw someone enter one of the rooms and close the door. "I'll check that out later, when I'm done being scared shitless," Shawn assured himself while walking to the lunchroom. Like the rest of the Tennebaum Orphanage, the dining area was falling apart at the seams with flaking plaster buried the table and the porcelain dishes. The children's drawings continued, illustrating the bountiful foods and sweets being offered there. The problem was that just like the drawings before, they seemed fairly recent.

The dark conclusion came into Shawn's mind; someone was luring whoever came by into this place, specifically children. This thought was corroborated when once again the shadow man appeared in the doodles. "The Wild Dog," he stated in a hoarse voice, as if unable to accept that all along, Gus and Lassiter were right. _No! There are no such things as ghosts! _ Shawn reminded himself…even though the proof was getting to be overwhelming. But one can imagine Shawn's face when he located his name written in a bright green crayon next to one Burton Guster. "What the fuck?!"


	2. A Buried Memory

A/N: Not much to say so I hope you enjoy this as well as creep you out! Reviews are welcome! characters (C) USA

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"_For once, Spencer, try and act like a psychic; that place is something wicked and for your health's sake just stay away," Lassiter warned him in a low growl like a wolf about to dismember its prey. "What about what the Chief says?" Shawn vainly argued; now this case was just too irresistible to pass up. "She agrees with me." In a way that seemed out of character, Carlton grabbed Shawn's hand and held it in a tight grip. "Read the articles and you'll understand why we can't get involved. If you still want to go through with that suicide mission, then I won't stop you," the Head Detective stated before entering his study to review another case. _

_Shawn spent the entire night at the Santa Barbara Police Archives, educating himself about the Tennebaum Orphanage. After a couple of articles into his search, his resolve became as strong as it could ever be so he decided that the next day, he'd pay a visit to Old Sonora. _

The scrawls were indeed Shawn's own handwriting some twenty-odd years ago but he couldn't remember ever been at the Tennebaum Orphanage in the first place. "How is this possible?" he wondered out loud as he glanced at the drawings he and Gus had left behind. Some drawings depicted the two friends as superheroes, flying across the crudely drawn skies while others focused on random animals found in a forest; none of them featured the dark blob. It wasn't until he saw a doodle of Gus in Eagle Scout uniform that the memories came back…

_In 1989, as their troupe settled for their annual field trip to the Old West recreation, 11-year-old Shawn decided the activity was too boring for him to care. "Hey Gus, let's ditch these guys and go to the haunted place!" the young Spencer suggested. "Oh no Shawn, I'm not leaving camp for some stupid tale your dad told us last night!" Burton shook his head furiously. "You actually believed him? Dad's just scaring us like he does every day! Besides, Jimmy McCormick told me that it's not scary at all! There might even be treasure!" Shawn corrected. With that as motivation, Gus accompanied his best friend to elude the camp leader and into the scattered forest. _

As Shawn entered the kitchen area, he noticed that the sun was on the afternoon position in the sky, meaning that whatever he was looking for, he had to find it fast or nighttime would catch up. Unlike the relatively intact dining area, the kitchen was laid to waste with cutlery, pots and chinaware covered in dark brown spots and flakes. The drawings were lost to the investigation or simply faded away, save for what Shawn dubbed the Shadow Man. What disturbed the normally imperturbable young man was what the Shadow Man held in his hands; a plate full of red candy. _Last I remember, this is where five of the murder victims were found,_ the fake psychic reminded himself; _the other twenty were found in the study hall and the rooms upstairs_.

Out of the corner of his eye, a shadow darted from the window to the wall, avoiding his line of sight. The hair on Shawn's arms stood on end when he once again confirmed he was all alone in the abandoned building. "Time to check the study hall," the pseudo-psychic stated with a fear-induced broken voice, practically sprinting out of the area to try and elude whatever was following him. Once at the main hall, Spencer was catching his breath when he could've sworn his eyes met with a child's for a split second.

Startled, the fake psychic dropped his flashlight; its light shining on a particular spot. "Shit," Shawn hissed as he bent down to pick it up when he looked at the illuminated area; written by a deep blue crayon read the name "Carlton Lassiter". _Ok, NOW this is just scary in so many ways…Lassie was here too?! _ Shawn became fascinated by that fact; that's how the Head Detective knew so much.

Just like Shawn, Gus and the other children, Lassiter had left his own artistic contribution on the walls of the orphanage. _Better check out what his drawings say, _Spencer thought, his heart heavy as he pictured a young boy with a mess of black hair and bright blue eyes that would grow up to be his lover. Carlton's pictures depicted his family (his dad conspicuously faceless), him as a cowboy on a horse with Hank on his own as well as him holding the paw of a bear named 'Mr. Boo'. In his mind, Shawn imagined how the Head Detective would've arrived at the Tennebaum Orphanage…

_Hank was rounding up the horses for the next show while Carlton played with the toy guns on the edge of Old Sonora. "Stick 'em up, you bandit!" the boy exclaimed to the trees when he must've been lured by something into the deeper parts of the forest. "Don't wander too far, Binky; your mom already called that she's coming," the old sheriff called out but by then, Lassie must've been out of hearing range…_

As heartwarming as these were, the last drawing was unsettling to say the least; the Shadow Man with a decapitated head on one hand and grabbing a crying Carlton on the other. That one hastily drawn picture proved to Shawn that, contrary to whatever he believed; Wild Dog was _very_ real. "Oh my God…Lassie's seen Wild Dog," he concluded with a whisper. In the study hall, even more examples of Wild Dog's brutality were showcased by increasingly familiar artists: Henry Spencer drew the Shadow Man with two halves of a person while Karen Vick sketched what looked like the Shadow Man stabbing a woman. The most recent artist had been Gus and he depicted both he and Shawn running away from the Shadow Man.

"What the hell is this place?!" Shawn screamed at the top of his lungs, hoping for some answers. To his dismay, his response was a disembodied death rattle that emanated from the second floor and vibrated through the feeble walls. The younger Spencer's eyes were filled fear and unexplainable rage with this Wild Dog as he took out one of Lassiter's home guns and climbed the main staircase.

The shadow retreated into the Head Master's room but the fake psychic's attention was diverted to a bizarre sight in one of the bedrooms. Inside was a monumental pile of toys and miscellaneous items that ranged from marbles to dolls to plastic guns as well as a police badge. "Am I missing something?" he asked himself out loud as he picked up an Eagle Scout badge ribbon.

_After a day of eating whatever they wanted from the oodles of candies and drawing on the orphanage's walls, Gus said, "It's getting late Shawn; we'd better get back to camp." "Relax, there are no such things as ghosts!" Shawn assured but would be proven wrong once the sun disappeared from the sky. The once jovial atmosphere was replaced by screams of terror as the two boys did whatever they could to survive. _

_As a last resort, they hid in the Study Hall and while Shawn tried to think of a way to get away from the Shadow Man, Gus desperately drew on the walls. "Gus, what are you doing?!" "I'm drawing us just in case someone finds our bodies and can't identify us!" the poor child replied, tears streaming down his face. "Don't think like that! We're getting out of here together!" the Spencer boy pledged while crying as well. Once Shawn distracted the invisible killer with a rock, they made their way to the second bedroom and noticed the mound of toys. _

"_What the? What are all these toys doing here?" Burton inquired as Shawn searched for a way out. Then he remembered what his father had told him at the end of the story…_

"'To escape the Tennebaum Orphanage, you have to leave a bit of yourself behind'," Shawn remembered while picking up a teddy bear with a badge that read 'Mr. Boo'; the seemingly innocent heap of playthings were in truth sacrifices to ensure survival. _It throws Wild Dog off your trail long enough to get out of the forest…_ "Wild Dog kills those who don't perform the sacrifice," he considered; that explained why most of the disappearance victims were either people that didn't believe the story or had simply never heard of it.

A loud rustling in the wood cause Shawn to realize that the Sun was setting; his time was quickly running out. He heard the same death rattle now on the first floor as the door swung open; Wild Dog was home. "Shit!" Shawn shouted; he had nothing to leave behind. _Unless…_he analyzed the situation and took out his Swiss Army knife; using the blade, he cut his left palm and let the blood drip into his right hand. Once it was saturated enough, he smudged Lassiter's gun with it and carved 'Burton Guster' on the wall before staining it as well.

Taking no chances, Shawn grabbed the Eagle Scout badge ribbon and Mr. Boo while heard heavy footsteps enter the dining room. _He's making his rounds_, Spencer assumed as he slowly went down the stairs to an empty main hall. He could hear incorporeal snarls and manic laughter he associated with a serial killer as he exited the Orphanage as quietly as he could. As soon as he was in the playground area, Shawn felt a man breathing down his back but he made sure not to turn around or Wild Dog would've dragged him back inside.

Two hours later, just as Shawn felt secure of having escaped the horror, he heard an unnerving sound; someone was following him out. The fake psychic picked up his pace, running as fast as he could without dropping the dear items he had stolen from the Tennebaum Orphanage. The beastlike roars made certain that Wild Dog was enraged over being fooled. Try as he might, Shawn knew he could never outrun the invisible killer and screamed as loud as he could; hoping someone would hear him before he died…

Hank was packing the last of the boxed with his lovely fiancée when he heard a familiar voice. "Shawn? What's he doing here?" he inquired as the young man burst out of the forest at full speed; his left hand covered in blood. "Help me! Wild Dog's following me!" Shawn yelled; his voice now exhausted when he collapsed in front of the retired sheriff-slash-actor.


	3. Epilogue

A/N: The conclusion of this short story...when I thought of this part, I felt my eyes get wet...that takes a lot. Thank you for reading this and hope by the time Halloween rolls along, you have a new scary story to tell others! This story is actually based on (pardon the redundancy), a tale a friend told me in a sleepover. Spot the BioShock cameo! Reviews are welcome! Characters (C) USA

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The next day, Gus arrived at Psych like he always did to meet with his best friend for breakfast. "Good morning Shawn!" he greeted, just like the day before, until he noticed Shawn's bandaged hand as he served up the bowls. "Dude, what the hell happened to your hand?" The fake psychic looked at his wound and shrugged. "Yeah, about my hand…yesterday, I did something _incredibly _stupid," he replied in a markedly soft tone of voice.

Gus scoffed at the notion of the younger Spencer making a fool out of himself. "What'd you do, Shawn? Piss off the SBPD by playing a prank on them? No, wait; you humiliated Lassiter in a case again, right?" the pharmaceutical representative suggested out loud. "I went back to the Tennebaum Orphanage." That one statement made Gus shake as if the room was freezing causing him to drop his spoon into the bowl. He had buried most of that experience when he himself had left his 'sacrifice' all those years ago.

"Shawn, what the hell were you thinking?! Don't answer that!" Shawn's face had a sad smile as he lifted the filthy yet still vibrant Eagle Scout badge ribbon. Burton was a grown man but when he saw that cherished item he had given up in order to survive, his eyes quivered as they welled up. His fingertips still remembered the sensation of yellow cotton, now stained with blood from Shawn's gash, and clothes badges, even after all that time.

The young man then patted his best friend on the back and let him cry it off as he exited Psych with a brown plastic bag. He hopped on his motorcycle, put on his helmet and drove off to the Santa Barbara Police Department, hoping to close the last open door to the sordid events…

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Carlton Lassiter was holed up in the Interrogation room just as O'Hara dragged the suspect away when Shawn promptly arrived. "Strange, the Chief already told Guster your assistance wasn't needed in this case," the Head Detective snapped, as usual, while Spencer made his way into the small space. "Actually, I'm here on another case, Lassafrass; one you are very intimate with…" Shawn started off as he slowly unwrapped the plastic bag to reveal Mr. Boo.

Lassiter's blue eyes widened and in his mind, Shawn saw an 8 year old boy reach out for his lost toy. "Spencer…how did you…why?" the older man could barely articulate a coherent sentence as he carefully held the dusty old teddy bear. "I wanted to be right so badly; and don't get me wrong I still am 99.8% of the time. But what I saw there was fucked up, and while I suppressed it to the point that I forgot, you didn't," Shawn said while putting a hand on Mr. Boo. Without considering that others may have been watching, Lassiter thanked Spencer with and embrace and a peck on the forehead. "Don't ever do something so dangerous and idiotic again; Wild Dog would've killed you on the spot."

"Trust me, it'll be a while before I can see the _The Blair Witch Project_ without going through some type of post-traumatic stress reaction," Shawn assured with a light grin. As the two left, Lassiter still had one doubt about Spencer's story, specifically with the healing wound on his left hand. "If Mr. Boo is here…then what did you leave as a sacrifice?" The fake psychic rolled his eyes and sped up his pace while remarking, "About Hidden Gun #3…" "You didn't." As Carlton Lassiter chased Shawn Spencer out of the interrogation room, they both laid to rest their experiences at the Tennebaum Orphanage, as well as the disappearance case that had enticed Shawn to go back, to rest.

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Back at the orphanage, the blood the fake psychic had literally spilled on Gus's name and on the police-issue Glock had finally dried up in its entirety, cementing his tribute. The halls remained quiet save for a giggle or two as the putrid playground hummed with the breeze. The walls were still lined with children's drawings of fairytales, superheroes and other fantasies as Wild Dog's latest victim was dragged along the floor towards the bedrooms. The recurring shadows on their doodles provided an epitaph for themselves; a warning for all who he lured to their deaths…


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